Fifteen
by Torn Scarf
Summary: Fifteen years ago he kissed her, fifteen days later, he left. Something with in that number are bringing them together. Short little Huddy fic, rating: T for language, nothing you can't handle. Read and review.


This was it. His rude awakening. Taste of his own medicine. She filled her glass with his harassment all fall. And it overflowed all winter. Spring break was rolling around, the glass needed to be dumped. Is ego needed to be stroked. Roughly.

The door to his apartment building's lounge swung open; making friends with the innocent brick wall behind it. Cuddy thought before entering, on how much that door on door action represented what was about to go down.

"Ah, the mistress ready for some sex, I see?" House looked up from the lacrosse game smirking. He looked her up and down; Cuddy's cheeks would have streaked red if it weren't for the anger camouflaging it.

"Shut up." Bluntly she said as she shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her Michigan University tee that invested her chest.

"Oh, hungry for the foreplay?" He said, half interested, standing up from the leather couch.

"Seriously, House, shut the hell up." Cuddy said, moving closer to him. She wasn't going to hit him. That is, unless his face deserved it.

"Listen Cuddles, I am all for skipping the foreplay…" He said not moving into her trap.

"Humor me, House. I didn't come here for se- harassment."

He glared at her, "Then why the hell are you here?"

She bit her tongue, not sure which move she was taking next.

"I want to know something. Do you have any respect for women at all? And I mean seriously, truly, is there any respect hiding in those hollow chambers we medically call your heart. Your malicious comments to every being with a vagina, is over done. This isn't grade school, grow the hell up." Check mate. She breathed in, he didn't even blink. Here it came, steal the king. "Considering you have no respect for women with their clothes on, do you have any when the clothes are off?" She wasn't completely sure what she was doing, but the sudden terror that pulsed through his blue pools reassured her it was working. She ran a finger down the bottom of the tee, she sighed before tearing it off and throwing it in his direction.

He watched her like she was the next up and rising porn star. He was torn, he needed to look away. As soon as his eyes wandered back to her, the white tank top was off.

"Cuddy…" His voice was low. It outraged her, as soon as the tank was merely a ball in her fist she threw it at him.

"You want me to stop?" She choked out, the animosity creeping up her esophagus, all for him. "You waste…hours of you time making vulgar remarks on how I should try wearing less clothes, yet here I am, shedding them, without your command. This, House, is what I am hiding. I am a woman. A fucking woman. I am respectful, and conservative, and I am…will be something great." She unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall her ankles, instantly stepping out of them.

"Lisa, stop." She never heard him use her first name. He spoke it like a sin.

"No. You don't get to call the shots here, this is my testament. This Greg, this is what you're missing out on." His name singed the inside of her mouth as it rolled off her tongue in a cracked voice. Fire versus fire she thought.

He closed the gaping distance between them, clutching her wrists and pushing her against a wall. "If you are a respectful, conservative woman. Which I know for a fact, that you are, you'll put your goddamn clothes back on." He whispered. His voice was mellow, he didn't break a sweat. He held her gaze, longing for it to never drop.

She couldn't let him win. She started fighting under his grip, but he had her good. His blue eyes, still casted upon her own.

He put his lips right next to her ear, one false move, and he'd be lickin' a lobe. He drew a breath, sending chills down Cuddy's spine. "Stop fighting this." He whispered, pulling his back to face her.

She lost. She realized that. She bit her lip, and looked at him once more before making the move of the century. This was it, neither of them completely aware of how it started, but her lips were plastered against his. Not a force in hell was breaking this up. She started to pull away, and he immediately dropped her wrists and cupped her face, kissing her back. She was melting at the thought of **them **as his tongue did rhythmic gymnastics insider her mouth.

He pulled back, looking at her before he turned to collect his jacket. "That's it?" She called after him, in her underwear.

He nodded, and continued out the door, stopping under the frame. "You're exponentially 1,000 times more beautiful than I originally pictured you… half naked. Thank your mother for me." He said, hiding his smirk.

He left her there, all hot and bothered. She placed the tip of her index finger to the swollen bottom lip. He left her there, in a big ball of hot mess. She made a disgusted face, "hot mess", a term she usually used loosely. A phrase she'd end up using to describe **them for the rest of her life.**


End file.
